


Your Friend

by RenaRoo



Series: Sapphic September [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Hardcore, NSFW, Sapphic September, with a little bit of hardcore parkour for imagining positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 14:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11991405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: After a successful mission, those involved tend to celebrate on the Mother of Invention. Most of those involved. Tex has never been one to join the festivities and, honestly, neither has CT. But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.  CTxTex. Sapphic September: Fireworks.





	Your Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I know it’s never something people can relate to when I say “this didn’t start as porn” but sometimes it just happens.

Mission success had never been optional, so the celebration of it was beyond her comprehension.

Agent Texas stood back, hidden in shadows, waiting for the others to leave the locker room. She needed to get her own things from the locker now that her private debriefing was over, and she needed to do it without having to engage with the others. The others were distractions to each other and to themselves. Trying to form some sort of network or team where it simply could not exist. Not if there was any desire to be the best.

It was what kept Texas better than all of them.

That was the way the Director explained it, that was the way Omega confirmed it, festering deep within her brain.

Inside of her was an an anger that she could do little to hide even if she had wanted to.

When the last of the Freelancers left the room, Agent Texas merely looked after them, watching the group walk in fresh clothes, mostly sweats and t-shirts. The only AI that was free forming as a result was that of Agent North’s — the always childish Theta. He was receiving compliments from the crowd as he used his holoprojection to send off a light show — reds and blues and purples, like small fireworks raining over the small area around his partner. It was a waste of energy and resources, and it made the anger within Texas burn hotter. They weren’t even  _trying._

Every moment she lived and breathed the desire to be the Best. To be the one that the project, the military, the  _species_ could rely on, and her every moment was plagued with the dread of failing it.

So to say the way her supposed team spent their free time right after just  _one_ successful mission bothered her was putting things very,  _very_ lightly.

Once the locker room was cleared, Texas kicked off from the wall and escaped the shadows just long enough to walk into the emptied room. Or, at least, it  _should_ have been emptied.

Inside, Omega’s sensors began to decorate her HUD and sent Texas’ gaze to the corner where her own locker sat. Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists, prepared for a brawl.

“Is that how you greet everyone?” Agent Connecticut asked, stepping out from behind the lockers.

Like the others, she was out of suit and uniform. But unlike them — much more like Texas herself — her eyes were hardened and readied for another battle. The same ferocity on the field was reflected in her stance squaring off with Texas.

Strangely enough, the met aggression appealed to Texas far more than confident chatter and fake fireworks. She straightened up and relaxed her own shoulders, even more impressed when Connecticut didn’t copy with the same.

“You’re by my locker,” Texas stated clearly.

“I am,” Connecticut admitted. “I was going to break into it while everyone else was celebrating.”

“What if I don’t like that?” she asked intently.

“I wouldn’t know enough to care. I was breaking into it  _because_ I didn’t know you,” Connecticut offered, stepping closer. “They say you can learn a lot about people based on the things they keep.”

“Looking to be my friend or something?” Texas asked. “There’s easier ways to get to know someone.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,  _Tex,_ ” Connecticut fired back. “And you don’t cross me as someone easy.”

“Good, because I’m not, and I’m not a friend,  _Connie,”_ Texas answered in turn.

“I don’t go by Connie,” Connecticut said shortly, rounding the lockers and reaching for the lockpad for Texas’ own.

With lightning fast speed, Texas grabbed the invasive hand, used it to flip Connecticut around and slam her back against the locker in question. Texas’ other hand then took hold of the wrist Connecticut had been using to grab a bowie knife. She slammed that hand back against the locker as well, settling a knee into the locker just between Connecticut’s thighs. They were face to face then, just an inch between Connecticut’s mouth and the end of Texas’ helmet.

“I don’t go by  _Tex,”_ Texas countered. “And I don’t like people in my locker. Or in my room. Or touching my  _stuff._ And I’ve got a  _short fuse,_ so just trust me when I say…  _you won’t like me when I’m angry.”_

Connecticut’s breath was short, and according to Texas’ HUD her pulse was steadily rising, but still controlled. Still smooth. It was impressive, it was dangerous.

And those weren’t words Texas liked to associate with just anyone.

“Maybe you should try going by it,  _Tex,”_ Connecticut offered, maneuvering her lips in a way that let her whistle air past her nose and blow the strands of hair that were lying across her eye. “Could serve to make you a little more human.”

“Who said anything about me wanting to be more human?” Texas hissed in return.

“You’re part of Project Freelancer,” Connecticut laughed coldly. “At this point we’re  _all_ trying to find the little pieces that make us more human. Just for a bit. Just for a minute at a time.”

“Having an AI blast fireworks past my face isn’t going to make me feel more human,” Texas countered scathingly.

“Yeah?” Connecticut asked before somehow managing to break Texas’ grip on her unarmed hand, flipping her hold so that it was on Texas’ wrist, and jerking the agent’s hand down to smack against the keypad of her locker, unlocking it for them both.

The moment Texas regained control of the situation, she grabbed Connecticut again, twisted her hands to make her drop her knife before she flipped Connecticut around until her stomach and breasts were flat against the closed lockers, hands held together against the small of her back, and Texas pressing her knee up farther between her thighs to keep her immobilized. She pressed her freed forearm against the back of Connecticut’s neck, making sure the smaller agent knew exactly who was in charge. But still, that heart rate didn’t rise, and Texas was left feeling uniquely dissatisfied.

Connecticut’s breath was shallow in part thanks to the pressure against her, but her eyes were as hard and alert as ever, taking the opportunity to look in Texas’ locker. “Looks to me,” she uttered breathlessly, “like your first step to feeling human… would be putting some goddamn personal items in your locker.”

“It’s where my suit goes,” Texas assured her, pressing against the agent more. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“There’s nothing disappointing about you,” Connecticut replied. “Just sad I didn’t get to see the armor come off for once.

Texas stared back at Connecticut, measured the shallowness of her breath.  _A distraction,_ the anger sneered in her mind. Just like all the rest.  _Distracted by things that can never last._

And yet…

Relinquishing her grip on Connecticut, removing her knee, Texas watched as the smaller agent slid down the lockers onto buckling knees. She didn’t fall, though, grabbing her knees and coughing as she caught her breath. A little, insignificant, human struggle that made Connecticut the most real and most  _living_ thing Texas could ever remember seeing.

By the time that Connecticut looked up, Texas quelled the anger through a different, unknown feeling. It was the same one that guided her hesitant hands up to her helmet, stroke fingers down the edges of her helmet, then, after a few moments too long, unlatched the helmet and freed her face to be revealed.

Breath still shallow, but beginning to regather strength, Connecticut stared at Texas in wonder.  _Amazement_ really.

There was nothing but breathing between the two of them as Connecticut got to her feet and slowly approached Texas. Texas, in turn, moved in the same speed, lowering herself down to the bench behind her and laying her helmet off to the side.

Even though she hadn’t taken the time yet to look in the mirror — the mirror her locker held away — Texas knew that the mission had worn long on her. There were tears in her skin, with wires and metal exposed beneath. Where others might have a bloodshot or blackened eye, Texas had an exposed, clinking socket.

What might have scared others away at a glance, Connecticut approached, reaching out, fingers dancing across skin until prodding at the exposed sinew of metal and cord. Her thumb brushed Tex’s cheek.

“What are you?” she asked Texas quietly.

“I don’t know,” Texas answered back. Connecticut’s other hand lifted up to hold her other cheek, just below her exposed socket. Despite herself, Texas leaned into it. “I think human.”

They kept their positions for a moment, locked in time and space. In reflection, Texas wouldn’t know who made the next move. If it was her reaching for Connecticut’s hips, or Connecticut sliding onto her lap, Maybe it was neither, just a synchronous motion at once.

“I think,” Connecticut said, breathing warmly against Tex’s nose and chin before tracing her own wet lips against Tex’s, “I think human does it, Tex.”

“Okay, Connie,” Tex replied, surging her face forward, kissing Connie with teeth raking against each other.

The hands that had caressed Tex’s broken face came around Tex’s neck and searched her armored back.

Tex’s hands shifted from Connie’s hips, tracing down her thighs as their mouths fought against the need for air. When she reached Connie’s knees, Tex jerked her legs open wider and found no objection. They were locked, Connie holding Tex’s shoulders hostage and Tex gripping the inside of her thighs. Their locked lips released and when their eyes met, for a moment, Tex could have been fooled, but she thought for just a moment she could see her own fireworks.

Not giving Connie warning, Tex took hold of her waist and flipped her as they rolled from the bench to the floor. Connie’s head rolled back against Tex’s chest as if to speak in protest, but Tex silenced her with another surging kiss. Her hands worked up from Connie’s writhing thighs to the drawstring of her sweatpants.

The damn thing was double knotted, and since her anger needed  _some_ outlet while this hot, raving second emotion took control, Tex allowed it to be taken out on the pants, tearing through the fabric with her hands like it was tissue paper.

“Hgnn, T-Tex,” Connie gasped against Tex’s mouth. “Do you know wh—“

“Of course I know,” Tex said, taking control of Connie’s mouth once again. “I’m the best.”

Bringing her right knee up between Connie’s legs again, Tex gave Connie’s feet something to lock around while Tex’s right hand ventured south over Connie’s quivering stomach and her left hand pressed up, feeling through the fabric of Connie’s shirt, grasping at her tiny breasts one at a time, rolling her fingers over the fabric.

Her right hand found purchase and Tex was somewhat surprised to feel the bareness of hair and skin. She pulled from Connie’s mouth long enough to smirk doggedly against her. “Going commando? Rather brave, Agent Connecticut.”

“No one else has gotten past my first shield, Agent Texas,” Connie answered faintly.

Texas didn’t waste time, her index finger and her middle finger searched between the lips. She knew her gloves were rough, but Connie didn’t protest. And when Tex slid her fingers into the warmth and wetness, she traced her fingers upwards again, and Connie moaned as she pressed into the touch. She watched as the smaller agent withered at her touch, surging up and down over Tex’s thigh before Tex took control again.

With the hand that had been at Connie’s breasts, Tex held flat against the other Freelancer’s belly, holding her down as she repeated the stroke of her fingers once, twice, then  _thrice_ again, getting a series of noises from Connie that might have been the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

Clit hard, Connie was shaking against Tex’s hold, using her own hands to trace down her own body until she found the hand that was keeping her down. “T-Tex,” she muttered.

“Do you know what I am?” Tex asked, breathing the question against the shell of Connie’s ear. “Do you know what I can do?”

“You’re human,” Connie gasped, “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“I want to do you,” Tex answered, rubbing her fingers in circles around Connie’s hard clit. “I want you to scream. I just want you to scream for me.”

She rubbed Connie in circles, tightening them up with each rotation, winding her up until she could feel the muscles of Connie’s stomach tightening beneath her touch, could feel the way Connie’s legs and feet straightened out, trembling and incapable of holding around Tex’s leg.

Connie didn’t scream, she arched under Tex’s grip, head back and mouth agape as a gasping noise freed itself from her throat. She shuddered in Tex’s old, feet kicking against the floor as Tex continued, pressed harder stroked longer and deeper. Her jaw clenched and her body flattened back against Tex, resting flatly against her on the floor and letting Tex know it was time to slow to a gentle massage, letting Connie’s body ride through the waves of tension.

“You human,” Connie gasped again, turning her head enough to press her cheek against Tex’s throat. “You’re so human. You’re the most human fucking person I’ve ever met. And you owe me new fucking pants.”

Tex held Connie long after her orgasm ended, staring up to the ceiling past her. Omega had left, jumped out in a fit of jealousy sometime during their sex. Tex didn’t care. She just knew, somehow faintly in the back of her mind, that it was bad. That she was being told on. That everything she loved in that minute, in that second, was going to disappear.

Tex knew she  _wasn’t_ , in fact, human.

But she pretended to be, on the locker room floor, holding onto Connie, praying that if nothing else, their cruel keepers would let her keep the memory of being  _Tex_ for once instead of  _Texas._


End file.
